The Valley
by The Guest Calypso
Summary: What starts as a simple family vacation to Thorn Valley, quickly escalates out of control as the Brisby family find themselves unintentionally thrust into the middle of a civil war. Unable to escape from the valley, they must find a way to survive, meet unlikely allies and hopefully stop the violence before it attracts the attention of a much greater evil. Rated T (Or PG.)
1. Chapter 1

The Valley

By The Guest Calypso

_Disclaimer: Aurora, Don Bluth Studios, and Fox Studios are the respectful owners of all 'The Secrets of NIMH' properties including characters and names. All Original Characters (OC's) and story-line belong to the writer The Guest Calypso and should not be used without explicit consent from the writer. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and does not necessarily reflect the views of the writer; it is not used for monetary gain what-so-ever._

_If, by some astronomical chance, Don Bluth (Or his legal department.) stumbles onto this work of fiction and enjoys it, I hereby give up all rights to him (And his studio) to use this story as the __proper__ sequel that 'Secrets of NIMH' fans have been waiting 30 years for. It's fun to dream right?_

_Small print over, enjoy!_

* * *

Chapter 1

It is the middle of summer at a farm deep in rural America. The corn fields have been plowed and the crops have begun to reach human knee height. To a field mouse however, it is a giant evenly spaced wilderness that stretches for as far as the eye can see in all directions. Within these fields the small woodland creatures forage for food, already preparing to gather what is necessary to survive the impending winter chill.

Among these creatures is a familiar field mouse. He is young, barely reaching his teens, scrounging for the hardy seeds that fall from the massive stocks above. The small satchel he is carrying is nearly full, and after grabbing a little more seed the young mouse is satisfied with his cache, heading towards his home; a cinderblock at the edge of the field, underneath a massive rock. The sun begins to set over the rolling hills of grass and trees as the young mouse reaches the rock and quickly surveys his improvised home; dirt had been packed and piled around the structure, covering up the holes and weather proofing for winter. A small metal chimney poked out of the growth that had camouflaged the home from curious animals. Light grey smoke lazily lolled out of it, signifying to the mouse that mother had begun the preparations for dinner in his return.

He scaled the roof with practiced precision, reaching the entrance to his home and pushed the wooden door open. Upon stepping within the dwelling and closing the door behind him the sounds of laughter and idle chatter greeted his ears. "I'm home everybody!" He announced, un-shouldering the heavy bag within the entranceway.

"All right, Martin's back!" Someone squeaked, followed by cheers from others out of sight within the kitchen. The now revealed Martin stepped into the kitchen carrying his parcel, immediately becoming swarmed by his two younger siblings; Timothy, his younger brother and his younger sister Cynthia, whom wasn't much older than Timothy. "Hey Tim, hey Cynthia, you guys hungry?" Martin greeted, dropping the satchel roughly into Timothy's outstretched arms, while Cynthia rummaged through the bag; inspecting Martin's gathering skills.

"Hey ma." Martin then greeted a slender light brown mouse wearing a red shawl with an idle hand wave. His mother couldn't return the gesture; she was occupied with fixing stitching on the side of a homely dress on Martin's older sister Theresa, who was fidgeting as she stood with her arms outstretched from her sides on the table, sighing uncomfortably. "First of all young man; I'm your 'Mother', not 'Ma'." Mrs. Brisby corrected her eldest son softly, holding a threading needle between her pursed lips. "And hello you to you too, Martin, how did foraging go?"

"Pretty good considering how many others are out gathering stuff for winter." Martin answered seemingly unaffected by his mother's correction. "Hey Sis, you're _still_ getting your dress resized?" He added with a snarky tone. Theresa shot Martin a look, sticking her tongue out at her brother. "She wouldn't _still _be in this position if she just held still." Mrs. Brisby sighed, finishing a stitching then clipping the extra string off with her teeth. "Sorry mother, but it is taking _forever_ to resize my dress." Theresa protested.

"Well then you should stop growing so fast young lady, then I wouldn't have to keep doing this." Mrs. Brisby said with a warm smile. "And don't be so smug Martin, your next for a refit."

Martin waved off the returning smug look Theresa had given him, tugging on a corner of his tight-fitting shirt so it would come lower over his gut. "So mom, what are we going to do for Cynthia's birthday?"

"I'm not quite sure yet." His mother said, growing distant; her hands slowing down for a fraction of a second in their task, her deep blue eyes peering into infinity as she began to ponder. Without so much as a warning, Cynthia came dashing into the room overhearing her name being used in the conversation. "Watcha' all talkin' about?" She said with an innocent demeanor.

"Nothing Cynthia dear, start getting washed up for dinner, I'm finished with Theresa's dress and we'll start as soon as everyone is ready." Mrs. Brisby quickly interjected before Martin could reply with any spoilers for Cynthia's birthday. Everybody exclaimed including Theresa, who mumbled '_finally'_ under her breath as she climbed down from the table. Mrs. Brisby began to prepare dinner for everyone, cooking the ingredients Martin had brought home. Dinner had come and gone with only one incident; Timothy had flicked a corn seed at his older brother, after a round of laughter and mild scolding dinner passed without anymore incident. Everyone finished, and then prepared for bed.

Mrs. Brisby helped little Cynthia prepare for bed, however Cynthia was anything but ready to sleep. "Hey momma, did you remember tomorrow is my birthday?" She asked as her mother untied Cynthia's signature ribbon from around her torso, the excitement barely contained in her whispered words. "As a matter of fact, I did remember." Mrs. Brisby said enthusiastically, her daughter's happy and care-free disposition was contagious as she helped Cynthia into bed and tucked her in.

"Do you know what I want the most for my birthday?" Cynthia said, pulling the cloth blanket up under her chin and snuggling deeper into the mattress.

"I have no idea, what would you like?" Mother said, resting her elbows on the side of the bed and lacing her fingers together, resting her head upon them.

"I want to know who daddy was."

* * *

Mrs. Brisby had a hard time trying to sleep that night, her mind still reeling from the request from Cynthia on her mind. _"I want to know who daddy was."_ Cynthia's words rang in her thoughts clear as a bell.

_Me too, _Mrs. Brisby muttered to herself. After tossing and turning, for what felt like a small eternity trapped with nothing but her racing thoughts, she gave up trying to sleep. Quietly she slipped out of her large bed. For the first time in a long while, she noticed just how big and empty the bed was with only one body to occupy it. She reached for her signature shawl, tying it securely around her neck. Silently she checked each sleeping being as she made her way towards the kitchen, pulling blankets to cover shoulders and giving extra affection where it seemed necessary. Satisfied everyone was still deep within slumber; their mother crept into the kitchen.

The kitchen was bathed in the pale light of the moon through a small window over the sink. Mrs. Brisby made her way to the smoldering fireplace, poking the embers in the waning fire absent-mindedly, remembering the olden memories of all the things she remembered of the late Jonathan Brisby.

It made her smile remembering all the strange little things Jonathan had known; she found it so peculiar at how much he knew for just a field mouse. On several occasions she would prod him and ask how come he had known so much. His defense was always the same; 'I watched the humans.' She would fire back with 'Why would you want to get that close to a human?'

Jonathan would shrug, saying simply; 'I was curious.'

Mrs. Brisby had to cover her mouth to stop from giggling out loud and waking the household. She thought it was so strange at the time, but now looking back she was incredibly grateful he had taught her things like how to read and write, among other things.

She continued to watch the fire crackle in its dull orange glow, the small shower of sparks rose from the embers in lazy circles, compelled to rise out into the cold night air through the chimney. She drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders; it was her most treasured material possession, given to her from her husband on the first week anniversary of their marriage. If there was a list of things Jonathan was best known for, a hopeless romantic would have been near the top of the list.

She missed the hopeless romantic so much, but she refused to grieve anymore, she was beyond that stage. Now it was time for some answers.

For as long as they were together, Mrs. Brisby found it odd that Jonathan knew so much of the human world. Yet, whenever she would bring up the subject of his writing and reading skills, his knowledge of food storage, furniture construction and knowledge of '_electricity', _he would dodge the question or joke to evade any sort of answer to her questions. After a while, Mrs. Brisby just accepted the fact that there were some things Jonathan wasn't comfortable about discussing yet, when he was comfortable to speak about it, Mrs. Brisby would be more than willing to listen and understand. But he never got the chance. Mrs. Brisby became a widow, raising a family on her own and still void of any answers.

Until the events that happened six months ago.

When Timothy got sick, Mrs. Brisby took it upon herself to save her son's life. What started as a simple trip to Mr. Ages' home within a hay-baler turned into a harrowing adventure involving several close calls with the cat Dragon, the farmer's plow, a visitation to an owl that, despite the overwhelming fear of getting eaten, was instrumental to helping her find the colony of strange rats that could move her home to the lee of the stone, saving Timothy from the bitter early spring chill, and the destructive path of the Farmer's plow.

Despite how far-fetched Mrs. Brisby had thought finding a colony of odd rats that had a strange affinity for Christmas lights to save her family had sounded, she undertook the quest, desperate to do anything to keep her family safe. Then she learned of another world she wasn't even aware of by meeting Justin, Nicodemus and the rats of NIMH. And learning through the incredibly old and wise Nicodemus, the love of her life and the father of her children, was from NIMH himself. Nicodemus explained that, because of what they had gone through at NIMH, the rats and the surviving mice did not age normally, in fact the aging process had been slowed considerably.

Jonathan was afraid that, while she would grow to old age, Jonathan would remain young, only to watch his beloved wither away in front of his eyes. Everything had become so clear at that point; all the nervous glances, all the dodged questions were because Jonathan was terrified for their uncertain future together, Jonathan feared that she would push him away, or leave him because of the terrible burden he was being forced to bear.

In all honesty she would still accept him, no matter what, even if their time together would have been fleeting. She wanted so many more answers, she wanted to know more, and Nicodemus and Justin both seemed to be the most knowledgeable of her enigmatic late husband; she wanted to know where he had originally come from, what he was like and most importantly; what he had done for the rats that made his name so common-place. Sure Jonathan had helped the rats escape, but there surely must have been more than just that, even the Owl _knew_ Jonathan Brisby.

But it seemed fate was against her. Nicodemus had been killed by the traitorous Jenner, who then attacked her after she warned the colony of NIMH's arrival next day to capture them all. But that was trite compared to Jenner's reaction to The Stone. He seemed to become consumed by a lust for that stone, and the power it kept within, only with the courageous actions of Justin, and Jenner's henchmen Sullivan was he finally stopped.

She was more than grateful to have given it to Justin; the power it held was far more than what the humble field mouse Mrs. Brisby could comprehend, and because of that she felt a lot safer knowing that something with such capabilities was kept with someone as pure of heart as Justin. He was more than capable of protecting it from someone who could cause harm far better than she. But still, Mrs. Brisby wondered; how will Jonathan's children, and his widow, learn more about him? Everyone who had ever known him had packed their things and left for the safety of Thorn Valley.

Just as she was thinking of Thorn Valley, she had an epiphany. Thorn Valley; everyone that had the answers was at Thorn Valley!

Perhaps it was time to make a surprise visit to Thorn Valley; everyone was now old enough to make the trip safely, and this was a perfect birthday present for little Cynthia. What better birthday present than a family vacation out of the house?

The log crackled in its fireplace, drawing Mrs. Brisby from her thoughts. Sure Cynthia could learn more about her father from her siblings or her mother, but knowing Cynthia it just wouldn't be enough, she had after all very bright, just like her father. So Mr. Brisby finally reached a conclusion in her mind; they all would travel to Thorn Valley, tomorrow.

Mrs. Brisby nodded to herself, pleased with her plan. She stood from her place in front of the fire. Her thoughts now calmed enough she could now finally go to sleep, making her way back towards the bedroom, without waking anybody else, she climbed back into the large empty bed, untying her shawl to hang on the corner bedpost. But paused before hanging it in its resting spot; with all the reflecting this evening, she just couldn't bring herself to let it go. She drew it back, holding it close as she pulled the covers up and settled into the soft cotton. _You hopeless romantic, the kids miss you, I miss you. We all miss you._

Slowly Jonathan Brisby's widow drifted into sleep, holding her shawl close. For what was left of the fleeting night, the mattress didn't seem so empty.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Mrs. Brisby's mind raced in her sleep. The impending trip to Thorn Valley tomorrow dominated all thoughts on her mind. But that wasn't what made sleep fitful; she had a recurring dream.

* * *

She was standing in a field; black mountains in the distance surrounded all sides. There were others within this dream too; tall shadows milled about with purpose. Mrs. Brisby tried to stop one of the shadows and ask why everyone was in a rush, only to be approached by one she had not noticed before. The shadow knelt down in front of her, the face was blacked out but the shadow felt familiar, friendly, as muddled words emanated from the shadowed face. But did she know who it was? She couldn't hear the words, it was as if he was speaking while underwater, but somehow she knew this figure was trying to reassure her with strong, confident words. How did she know this, what was there to be afraid of?

Quite suddenly, the colorless sky began to turn crimson, shapeless clouds turning a sinister black. The shadow addressing Mrs. Brisby turned its gaze towards a knoll in the field behind them. The air began to tense. The shadow stood without a word, quickly they began to point at shadows standing idle, looking towards the knoll and shouting orders. Quickly, the small clearing Mrs. Brisby and the shadows stood in became very busy with shadows moving with purpose, encircling the small camp in defensive positions. The shadow issuing orders was still muddled, but its voice was loud, and spoke with authority, as fog black as tar began to edge over the top of the knoll, killing the green grass it touched. A number of the shadowed forces stood at the base of the knoll, unfazed and armed; with what Mrs. Brisby did not know, but they were ready for whatever appeared. What followed the fog could only be described as Hellish monsters, traveling in one massive roiling wave, came charging down onto the shadow encampment, heavily armed with what looked to be sticks spitting fire and blood-lust in their demonic gazes.

The shadow force remained steadfast, as the demons poured down upon them. Bouts of flame, the pop of explosions and the clashing of metal quickly filled the air. Mrs. Brisby watched the brutality with terrified awe as the green grass at her feet began to become crimson. She tried to run, to hide, but some corporeal force held her in place, all she could do was watch on as the shadow forces slowly began to lose their valiant fight with the never wavering ferocity of the invading demons until the only one opposing the demons, was the one shadow that spoke to Mrs. Brisby.

He fought on with furious fervor, keeping them at arm's length; every demon that charged forth was felled with swift attacks from a sword. When they fell, they dissipated like a fog disappearing before the morning sun, only to be replaced with another that would charge forth once more. He fought on, until it was only him that remained standing. The demons formed a wide circle around him, waiting for him to make a misstep before striking. When one got too overzealous and lunged, they were run through by the shadow. He carried on, keeping them at bay courageously.

An explosion pierced the clash of swords. The shadow figure cried out in anguish, faltering onto his knees. The sword within his grasp fell next to him. Without mercy the demons lunged all at once, blanketing the final shadow within inky blackness. The field fell dead silent.

Mrs. Brisby was no longer aware she was still within the field; she remained frozen in terror, surrounded now in darkness. Without warning, a claw reached through the black, grabbing a hold of her neck, pulling her from the darkness violently and into the piercing red gaze of the demon that held her within its iron grip. Crooked yellow teeth gleamed mere inches from her face, as the demons roared at her. "_Where is the Stone!?_" It demanded, the blood red orbs of its eyes bore into hers, seeming to suck away the life and soul from her. She desperately tried to look away, to close her eyes, but unable to do so.

_I don't have it._ She tried to say, but words failed to form. This seemed to anger the creature, who began to shake and squeeze her neck harder, glaring with dark intent. "_Do not toy with me mouse. Where is the _damn_ Stone!?_"

_I don't know, I swear!_ She desperately tried to cry out as the inky black of unconsciousness began to cloud her vision. She clawed in futility at the hand around her neck, to purchase some sort of respite, but its grip never relented. She teetered upon the edge of unconsciousness. She heard a metallic click echo around them, a cold metal object press against her forehead.

In a voice full of cold callous, the creature growled. "_That's a shame mouse, a damn shame._"

As the world fell into darkness, there was a final click before becoming blinded by searing light…

* * *

Outside the realm of sleep, something shook her shoulder roughly; a familiar voice began to reach her ear. Mrs. Brisby shot awake, sitting up barely able to draw breath to scream. To her horror when she opened her eyes, all she saw was red. Had the dream followed her? She panicked, trying to rub her eyes only to have something stop her. Waking further rational thought cleared away the panic, as she realized her shawl had wrapped around her head in her sleep, and swiftly removed it to reveal eight little eyes staring back at her, concern etched within all their expressions.

"Mom is everything okay?" Theresa asked first, being the closest sitting near the edge of the mattress.

Mrs. Brisby sighed in relief, managing a weak smile. "I'm fine dear—"

"Are you sure? You were pretty out of it, shouting something about 'not having it'". Martin said next.

"I promise I'm okay-." She tried to assure.

"Yeah, you were saying some other crazy stuff."

"I'm okay—"

"Mom, are you going crazy?"

"Mother isn't going crazy Timothy!"

"You can never be sure, I have to ask!"

"Children please!" Mrs. Brisby raised her voice, quelling the squabble. "It's way too early to be arguing like this. No, I'm not going 'crazy'; I just had a really bad dream."

"Actually, it's almost noon." Martin corrected. "But it must've been one pretty bad dream, you were in deep too, we've been trying to wake you for a while now."

"Oh my…" Mrs. Brisby whispered.

"Do you remember what you were dreaming about?" Timothy asked.

"Actually, now that you mention it…" Mrs. Brisby thought for a few moments, trying to recollect the nightmare. She couldn't remember anything about the nightmare. "I don't remember it at all."

Martin mumbled something in agreement. "It's probably best you don't remember it, it sounded pretty scary from this side of things, and I couldn't imagine what it was about."

Mrs. Brisby was also very thankful for not being to remember it either, whatever had occurred was beyond terrifying. "So, now that you're okay and everything." Martin interrupted his mother's thoughts. "You want to start some brunch? I'm starving." Martin then began patting his grumbling stomach. Theresa turned to her brother and scowled at him. "Martin, how can you be so inconsiderate!? You're thinking about food instead of worrying about mother's episode?!"

"Hey, a growing man's gotta eat, right?" Martin defended, lackadaisically patting his protruding gut.

"You are just _unbelievable _sometimes!" Theresa snorted.

Timothy, who had been watching the whole altercation from the side, cracked a mischievous smile and had discreetly moved closer to Martin. "Don't worry Martin; I don't think you'll blow away if you miss _your_ breakfast." Without warning Timothy slapped Martin in the middle of his stomach, palm open, an audible slap could be heard as Martin folded over and groaned. He recovered quickly however, much to the surprise of Timothy. "Oh, you are _dead_ you little twerp!" Martin growled, quickly running after the screaming and laughing Timothy.

Theresa had burst into laughter for a moment, before regaining composure and slipping back into the mature, older sister character before addressing her mother once more. "Are you sure you're alright mother? That was a little scary with not being able to wake you up."

"I'm fine Theresa, I promise." Mrs. Brisby assure softly. "Just a little nightmare is all. Your younger brother however, might be fed to Dragon if I don't stop Martin! How's about some brunch, you must be hungry too." Theresa nodded politely.

* * *

Brunch was made with little incident. Everyone had finished their meal and went to play out in the late-summer sun, while Mrs. Brisby remained sitting at the table, poking at her unfinished food, mind busy with planning. She continued to ask herself about the dream; she tried to remember it, but to no-avail. She only remembered waking up, terrified for her life, then nothing.

But more importantly, she was wondering how to share the news of traveling to Thorn Valley. True, she was nervous about it; she had never been beyond the fields of the Fitzgibbons property, it was going to be all new and alien. More importantly she was worried about all the obstacles that could potentially be in their way, along with the dangers that they could pose for her children. She was more than sure they would be okay, they had all grown quickly in the past months since spring, but a mother always worries about her children, they could most definitely handle anything that comes they're way.

Mrs. Brisby however, had doubts about herself. As much as she didn't want to admit, she was growing old, and since using the power of The Stone to save her family, she found the bounce in her step had lessened somewhat, strangely. To top it off grey hairs started to dot her pristine light-brown fur.

All the more reason to go now rather than later, she reasoned. With renewed purpose, she stood from the table.

The children were still outside playing in the summer sun, laughing as they chased the small bugs that were unfortunate enough to be involved in their game of catch. Mrs. Brisby watched for a moment, smiling warmly as she enjoyed their playful game, clearing her throat to catch their attention before she lost her nerve. Four beings stopped in their tracks, turning eyes and ears towards their mother.

"Alright everyone; as you all know it's somebody's birthday today!" Mrs. Brisby motioned towards the broadly smiling Cynthia. "So, I've been thinking about a little present for Cynthia, as well as everyone else."

This raised some confused glances from everyone. "What do you mean 'all of us', mom?" Somebody asked.

"Well." Mrs. Brisby paused, thinking best on how to word it. "I want everyone to pack a small traveling bag with some food, an extra change of clothes…"

"Are we going on sort of a trip or something?" Timothy asked, his eyes growing wider.

"We are, doing something like that." Mrs. Brisby answered with building enthusiasm.

"No way, where are we going?" Martin spoke up next.

His mother remained silent, a gentle smile began to show itself upon her face, finding it difficult to suppress as she saw the wheels turning in all four heads. Cynthia's expression was the first to light up as realization dawned on her. "You mean, we are going to Thorn Valley for my birthday?!" She exclaimed.

Mrs. Brisby let her warm smile reveal itself in full. "We are going to Thorn Valley, Cynthia."

Everyone began cheering and dancing about in gleeful excitement. Their mother waited a moment for them to burn off some energy, before she spoke up again. "Now save _some_ energy for the trip everybody, because we are leaving this afternoon."

"Today?"

"Yes today." She answered. "Go pack your things you'll want for the trip, we'll head out when everybody is ready to go."

With these final words, everyone disappeared into the house, and began packing without another word.

* * *

The sun was starting its descent when everyone had their essentials gathered, ready to leave home. "So how long do you suppose we'll be gone for?" Martin asked his mother as he helped her block the entrance to their home, a deterrent for looters and vagrants from breaking in. "I'm not really sure, but if I recall correctly, Justin said it would take the rats about two days to get to Thorn Valley, but it might be shorter for us because we aren't carrying as much."

"Do we have any clue how to get there?" Martin asked again, a sliver of doubt apparent in his tone.

"Thankfully yes, Justin said before he left, to travel North through the mountains…"

"And then down into the Valley!" Cynthia finished with gusto.

"Correct!" Mrs. Brisby praised. "Does that mean everyone is ready?"

"One more question before we take off on this poorly planned-out adventure." Theresa spoke up. "Do they even know we are coming?"

Mrs. Brisby came to a complete stop in her tracks. It had never occurred to her if she should let the colony know or not, but then it occurred to her; there was no plausible _way_ to let the colony know in advance since Jeremy had met an untimely demise shortly after meeting his Ms. Right. It would have to be a surprise, some things must be left to chance it seemed. "They don't know we are coming Theresa, it's going to have to be a surprise."

This however, did not satisfy the 'by-the-book' Theresa. "Well, maybe we should send a letter or something; it seems kind of irresponsible of us to just show up un-announced, I mean, what if something happens and it takes us longer than three days?"

"It's not like we have a choice Therese." Martin came to the side of his mother. "We could write a letter, but we don't have anyone who can send it, remember what happened to that buzzard Jeremy?"

Theresa and Cynthia lowered their gazes to the ground. "Oh yeah, I forgot about that…"

"That poor turkey, he'll be missed." Cynthia whispered.

"I miss him too." Mrs. Brisby said, before switching back to the matter at hand. "I know you don't like the idea Theresa, I don't like it either, but it's just going to have to be this way."

"Then why would we go then? It's dangerous!" Theresa protested. She crossed her arms, appearing to be done discussing the topic and making the decision not to go.

Cynthia looked to her older sister, looking to be on the verge of tears. "B-b-but Theresa, i-it's my b-birthday…"

"Cynthia, you must see how bad of an idea this is?!" Theresa huffed. "Please stop giving that face!"

"Come on Theresa." Timothy pouted. "It's her birthday…"

Theresa gave a defeated sigh.

"Guess you'll just have to throw caution to the wind for once." Martin added.

Theresa said nothing.

"Come on, it will be fun!" Mrs. Brisby assured the defeated Theresa. "Everyone say good-bye home, we will be back soon."

"Bye home, we will be back soon!" Everyone said in unison before turning their gazes north and went underway. Mrs. Brisby turned one last forlorn glance at her home; the home she and Jonathan had created together, the home that they had shared so memories together in and started a family within. She suppressed a lump forming in her throat, and turned to follow after her children before she lost the nerve to leave.

Ahead of the group Timothy assumed leader, walking in an exaggerated march humming and singing.

* * *

_Author's Note: Is Mrs. Brisby's dream a premonition? A warning of things to come? Or just a dream?_

_And just what happened to Jeremy? Will we learn? Who knows!_

_See you all next week. Stick around._


End file.
